The Vampire's Tale
by Eric Snowmane
Summary: The Redguard Gallen loses his family to vampire attacks, and embarks on a journey to find vengeance.
1. Chapter 1: The Vampire's Tale

**The Vampire's Tale**

**Eric Snowmane**

The rain was falling softly as Gallen rode up the road, the soft tapping of the rain on his back and the cold wind a constant reminder of the misery to come. It was the 23 of Evening Star and 40 degrees outside. Not that It would be any better. The Cheydinhal Guard Captain had posted a warning to all travelers on the road that a vampire coven was located on the road to Cheydinhal. Four merchants were dead on the side of the road in a week, and two other travelers, a Redguard woman and her daughter, Gallen's family, dead outside the Cheydinhal stables.

Arriving at a lake near the cave, Gallen climbed off his horse and walked a couple yards to a small waterfall. Sticking a small goblet near the water in it, he rinsed it off and filled it. Taking a deep drink of the cold water, Gallen shuddered, resisting the urge to break down. He was 48 and not getting any younger, years of service in the Blades had prevented him from having a family, and his wife and two year old daughter were dead!

Returning to the horse, he grabbed his Blades helm and donned it. Grabbing his shield and Akaviri Katana, Gallen proceeded towards the cavern. A rotting sign said "Barren Caves, KEEP OUT!" Gallen drew his katana and pushed the door open, hoping the loud creak wouldn't alert the occupants of the cave.

The cave was dark. You couldn't see further than a few feet in front of you. Gallen inched slowly forward through the caves. About a hundred feet in, Gallen could see a flickering fire in a couple feet deep drop in the cavern. Walking up to the lip, Gallen could see several coffins in various states of disarray. Three vampire stood around the fire, chatting amongst themselves.

Drawing out an iron bow and a silver arrow, Gallen took aim at the closest one. Whispering, "Stendarr watch over me," he fired, hitting the vampire in the heart. The vampire collapsed, and in a flash, the other two were upon Gallen. He barely had time to drop the bow and bring the sword and shield around. Raising the shield, he deflected a strike by one of the vampire's hammers. Following the attack, Gallen thrust out his shield, staggering the vampire, and swinging his katana at the other. The other vampire didn't have a chance to react, the katana plunged through his midsection and came out the other side. Gallen, in a furious rage and coursing with an adrenaline rush he had never known, twisted and pulled the katana to the side. The sword's sharp blade came out between the vampire's ribs, leaving the torso only halfway attached at the waist. Turning, he saw the other vampire had the hammer up, and this time Gallen was not in a position to block it. The hammer struck Gallen hard on the head and he blacked out.

Hours later, with a large lump on his head, Gallen woke up. Looking around, he found himself in a makeshift cell in a strange room. This was definitely not the cavern. The vampire sat nearby, admiring the Akaviri katana. The vampire stood up, and gave the sword an experimental swing in the air, apparently feeling the weight.

Noticing Gallen, he said, "Oh good, Redguard. You're awake. I was afraid you had died."

Narrowing his eyes, Gallen replied, "What do you want with me, vampire scum?"

Sighing, the vampire said, "So rude. I was expecting a civilized conversation with you, human. Please, oblige. I am the one with the blade, and you are the one in a cage. Now I hate to have to kill you, especially before I can say what I want to tell you. Now for the sake of a civilized conversation, my name is Jean-Pierre. And you are?"

Suspiciously, Gallen responded, "Gallen. OK Jean-Pierre, you have my attention."

"Most excellent. I know why you came here. I found the letter in your clothing. Your wife, Amelia and your young girl, Rosalyn. I am sorry, I truly am. I know you think of me as a monster, but let me say, I was in your shoes once. I had a young family. It was 200 years ago. I served the local guard in Kvatch. I was outspoken against vampiric activity, and I had personally overseen countless raids across County Kvatch against various vampire covens. I believe I had killed approximately 150 vampires in my time."

Gallen stood up, "If you are so against vampires, why are you still alive as a vampire?"

Handing Gallen a bottle of Tamika's wine, Jean-Pierre continued.

"Have a drink. And let me continue my tale. Then I will leave you to your own judgement. I was stricken with vampirism when I was in Kvatch with my family. A vampire from the last raid had survived, apparently. He came to my house in a full brown robe, dressed like he could have been a priest. He was resting on an old cane. Declaring himself to be a traveling monk, he asked if he could come in and rest. Though his hood covered his face, I could see enough to notice how elderly he appeared, and tired he looked. I invited him into my home and fed him my food. Then he stood up, throwing aside the cloak. I could see his pale pink eyes and hungered expression. I also noticed a signet ring on a gold chain, that I remember seeing in the cavern so very clearly. He fired a blast of lightning, killing my wife and unborn son instantly. Then he fed on me until I was barely alive. Turning to the door, he said I would suffer for eternity for the death of his "family," as he referred to the coven as."

Gallen sat thoughtfully on the stone bed. Jean-Pierre opened the door and said, "Please, sit with me over here at the table. I do not wish to harm you. I hope that thus far I have proven myself worthy of your confidence."

Nodding, Gallen moved to the sitting area, and grabbed a goblet of water.

"Please, Jean-Pierre. Continue," he said.

"So I lay in my house. My pregnant wife dead, and I was too weak to move. After two days, a guard entered, looking for me to know why I was late for duty. I was deathly pale, not yet a vampire, but too weak to move. I was in and out of consciousness, but I woke in a chapel room, with a cool towel on my head. A priestess told me I was almost dead when the guard found me. I was delirious, mumbling 'he killed her. The dark one.' The guard thought me insane and took me to the chapel for treatment. I was feeling stronger when I awoke in the chapel. I know now that it was the vampirism. It had finally fully manifested. I was everything I swore to destroy. I arose from the bed and pounced on the young priestess, feeding and killing her in the process. In that first feed, I couldn't control myself as I do now. I do not kill. I never did again after that first feed. I left the chapel, knowing the woman's scream would alert someone, and returned to my house.

I could see the world in a new way. I could smell the guard who found me, my wife, and the vampire. I followed his scent to Anvil, where he was in an old tavern, again posing as a traveler. I saw him turn, recognizing me. He left quickly, and I followed him. When he turned the corner towards the castle, I ran full speed at him and jumped onto him. He staggered and tried to throw me off, but the blade was across his throat already and he lay dead in the street. Picking up his fallen torch, I laid it on his cloak. He quickly became engulfed in flames. For the past 200 years, I have killed many vampires, continuing my work. I have become accustomed to my curse. It has given me until the end of time to vanquish all evil, I have enhanced senses and tracking abilities, and I have been able to conceal my appearance through feeding, and continue to lead a fairly normal life."

Standing up, Jean-Pierre walked around to the table and picked up Gallen's gear.

"Here," he said. "I want you to have this. I do not wish to kill you. I have told you my story, and I want you to know that it was not I, who killed your children. I am sorry I had to injure you, but I had to defend myself, and you would not have listened to me unless you were captured. Go in peace. Or kill me. I know that in your heart, you are a vampire hunter now. You will do this, for Amelia and Roslyn, until you die. I have lived a good life. Feel free to take it. I also offer you my dark gift, to use as I did, killing those dark murderers."

Gallen took the Blades gear, and strapped up in it.

"Thank you, Jean-Pierre. But your story has touched me. I do not wish to kill you, and I respectfully decline your offer."

Smiling, Jean-Pierre said, "Very well, Gallen. Remember me. And I can smell your family's killer, he left the cave hours before you arrived. He can normally be found at The Drunken Dragon. Good luck. I will be here if you ever want to see me."

Turning towards the door, Gallen said, "Where are we anyway."

"We are in the Old Manor, right down the road from your home, Gallen. We are less than an hour from sunrise, and I must sleep. Take care, my friend."

Turning, Jean-Pierre walked into the darkness of the house towards his room. Gallen, donning his helm, picked up the sword and shield, and left walked towards the front door, a determined look in his eyes. The Drunken Dragon was a half day away, and if he hurried, he could catch the vampire in his sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Crimson-Tail

**The Vampire's Tale, part 2**

**Eric Snowmane**

The roads were empty in Cheydinhal, and the normally visible twin moons Masser and Secunda were covered by a thick layer of clouds. The rain was falling hard. The normally clean streets and porches were covered in thick layers of mud, and nobody was outside who didn't have to be… Except for one who had just woken up, and was stepping outside to brave the early night and the rain. He wore a thick traveling cloak in a vain attempt to keep the weather off of him. As a member of the Argonian race, the weather itself wasn't much of a concern. What was concerning the Argonian was his ability to find a meal. Not very many people would be outside in these conditions, and he was in no mood to enter anybody's homes.

A sharp, cold wind hit the Argonian full in the chest, waving the cloak around at his ankles and blowing the hood off of his head. If there was anyone outside, they would have surely seen that he was no normal Argonian. For the last 4 years, he traveled around Cyrodiil at night, feasting on the living.

The Argonian looked around, and saw nobody on the main road. There were only a few guards outside. Hungry as he was, the Argonian knew he was no match for a city guard. He walked towards the gate, about to leave the city, when one of the guards approached him.

"Excuse me, sir", the Imperial said. "Are you 'Crimson-Tail'?"

The Argonian gasped. _''How does the guard know me,_'' he thought. He was only out at night, and he never stayed in one town for more than a week at a time. Cautiously, he decided to reply.

"Yes. What business to you have with me?"

"Crimson-Tail", the Imperial began, "A friend of yours passed through here earlier today. He told me you would be out at this time. He wanted me to tell you to meet him at the "Dragon". Said his name was Draconis. Does that mean anything to you?"

Crimson knew what it meant. The Drunken Dragon was an Inn on the east side of the Nibenay going towards Leyawiin. The one friend he had. Well, the one person he talked to regularly, at least.

"Yes. Thank you. Have a nice evening."

"You too, sir. If you are setting off to travel somewhere tonight, then Divines watch you. This is terrible weather", the guard said.

Crimson nodded, and then walked through the heavy gate out of Cheydinhal. Once outside, he ran through the trees beside the outer wall, expertly dodging roots and undergrowth, despite the poor conditions. When he was about 200 feet from the gate, he stopped behind a thick tree.

Dropping to one knee, Crimson sniffed the ground. This was it. The place where he had buried a small chest with some stolen gems that he wanted to sell, along with his bow, arrows, and a small steel dagger.

Crimson picked up the dagger, and rand his hand over the smooth side of the blade. This was a particularly special weapon to him. He had killed many people with it when he was a mortal. Now, he kept it for sentimental value, rather than as a weapon. He no longer needed a blade. As a vampire, he was faster, stronger, and more agile than a typical opponent. His claws, and more importantly his fangs, were all he needed. The arrows, he sometimes used, if he wanted to play with a victim before finishing them off.

Standing up, he put the quiver and bow over his shoulder, put the dagger at his waist, and stuffed the small sack of gems into his pocket. Crimson closed the lie to his metal box and buried it again. He had similar chests outside of each major city in Cyrodiil so that he wouldn't have to carry his stolen stuff into town with him.

Crimson walked a few hundred feet west, parallel with the road. He didn't want to come out of the shrubs in sight of the guards at the gate. When he finally got back onto the road, he looked around. There was a small memorial near him. Nothing fancy, it was just a wooden cross with a sword resting against it. A tribute to a poor villager that Crimson had killed the other day. He looked at it in disgust. It was only a poor merchant. A man Crimson had stalked for days. He was a drunk. A man who spent every penny he had on wines he couldn't afford. Crimson was certain nobody would have missed him.

Turning, Crimson walked further down the road before stopping. He could hear horses not too far away, and what sounded like crying. Curious, he ducked into the shrubs to watch. A woman and an infant came around the corner, heading towards Cheydinhal. Why they were traveling was beyond him, but Crimson was never one to turn down a free meal. In this storm, it was probably the best he would find outside of a town anyways.

Jumping out of his hiding place, Crimson knocked the woman off the horse. The basket holding the baby was tied down, but it was jarred loose, and it was scraping on the ground. The sudden attack, and the woman's piercing scream startled the horse and it took off running, dragging the basket on the ground. Crimson held the woman in place, hand over her mouth, watching for the horse. The basket hit a rock and the infant flew out into the road, where it was trampled by the horse. Crimson could barely smell the blood over the rain, but it was definitely spilled.

Turning to the woman, Crimson put her on her knees. She struggled weakly, but before she could put up a real fight, he sank his fangs into her. The taste of her blood was better than the finest of wines to Crimson. He closed his eyes, enjoying the kill. After a minute, he laid down the body and rummaged through her dress. Finding what he wanted, a sack of coins, Crimson stood up. He ducked back into the trees and snuck back towards where the baby was. Hearing voices, he climbed a tree to get a better view. The baby's head had been crushed by the horse. The guards near the gate had seen the horse running up with the dragging basket and bags, so they went to investigate, and were standing over the body. Over the thunder, he could hear one of the guards saying that he was going further down the road to look around.

Crimson ran quietly along the branches, jumping from tree to tree, back to the woman's body. Since she was on this side of the road, Crimson could actually hear the guards talking.

"Captain, this Redguard has been killed by this injury to her neck. Bite marks of some kind. What is it, sir?"

The captain knelt down, looked at the body for the briefest of moments, then replied instantly, "This is a vampire's attack no doubt. The extra fang marks appear to be either Khajiit or Argonian. Definitely not a man or mer's bite. Go inform the other captains of the watch. Wake the whole guard. Have them suit up and meet me at the stables. We need to comb the area around town. I heard rumors of a coven nearby from an adventurer the other day. The odd traveler once in a while, although it is a problem, is not a concern, but this is the 5th victim that I know of within a week. Hurry, and Divines preserve you!"

The guardsman took off running towards town. Crimson decided that he had over stayed his welcome. The guards were going to actively search for him now. This coven of vampires, he knew nothing about, but he didn't want to investigate the truth of the rumor. Especially not when the whole town was on alert now.

Pulling out his bow and arrows, Crimson took aim at the captain. He wanted to have some fun before leaving. Taking aim, he fired at the man's knee. Screaming in pain, the captain fell to the ground. Crimson dropped down, and walked up to him. The guard drew is sword at pointed it at him.

"By order of the Emperor, I demand you to stop, lizard! Surrender peacefully, and you will live."

Crimson pulled back his hood, revealing his vampiric face, and laughed


	3. Chapter 3: Into the Vampire's Lair

**The Vampire's Tale, part 3**

**Eric Snowmane**

The blood was starting to pool on the ground. Crimson-Tail could smell it, despite the fact that the storms had diluted the blood pool. It smelled magical. He was almost tempted to kill the guard right there. The poor man would be an easy kill. He was helpless.

He tried to stand up, using his nearby shield as a support. It was painful, but the guard was able to do it.

"Halt", he yelled as loud as he could. He couldn't fend for himself, but he wanted to make as much noise as possible.

Crimson just kicked the shield aside, then followed through with a backhanded smack. The guard fell down screaming in pain. He bent down, drawing his dagger. He didn't want to feed on the man, having just gorged himself minutes ago on a middle aged Redguard woman. Besides, there was already a guard reporting in to look for a vampire Argonian or Khajiit. Crimson could already hear a few guards coming. With a quick slice, he slit the Captain's throat and took off into the trees, running quickly and silently.

Stopping on a short hill, he knelt down and looked out, his vampiric sight barely able to see the guards finding the body. Looking off to the west, down the other way in the road, he could see a few Legion horsemen riding up the trail. They would find the guardsmen and they would find the dead Captain. Soon, the Imperial Army would be looking around as well. Crimson took off running away from the beaten trail.

Looking off to the right, he could see a rickety old platform and a door. An old cave! He needed to hide for a little bit, and in the cold, terrible weather, there were not a lot of options. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.

It was a cave filled with vampires. They had their own smell. A smell that Crimson was all too familiar with. He slowed down his pace and snuck in further. Further inside were a few broken coffins with sleeping vampires inside. There was a little fire inside the circle the coffins made, and there were two vampires awake. One was dressed rather poorly in nothing but thin rags. The other was different. He wore a rather nice outfit and spoke in an accent that suggested he was a noble. Perhaps from the somewhere in High Rock. Crimson has seen vampires from all across Tamriel, and the ones from High Rock lived like they were still nobles. Crimson, despite being a vampire himself, preferred not to be in the company of vampires, and turned to leave. Just as he was turning, the Daggerfall accent grew louder.

"Hey! Come over here. What are you doing here, dark brother?"

Crimson tuned back, hissing, "What is it to you, Breton?"

The Breton replied quite frankly, "You came in here, I thought you were seeking company. I was just about to return to my home when you arrived. I have not seen you around here before. Perhaps you would like to join us in conversation?"

"Fine. Just for a little bit", Crimson sighed.

He walked over to the fire and took a seat on an old, empty coffin. Hearing the conversation, the other vampires woke. One of them, who Crimson assumed was a leader of sorts walked up to him, sizing him up.

"Jean-Pierre, why do you invite this lizard into our home? You are but a guest here, yourself", the leader said.

The Breton, Jean-Pierre, said, "Think nothing of it. He is jut a wanderer."

The leader drew a sword, and tuned to Crimson. "He is unwelcome. The last few "wanderers" took our supplies, then went into town to rape my wife and leave her for dead."

"Come on, Thorgrim, do you still think of her as your wife? She had left you two years before that."

"It doesn't matter. The lizard leaves."

Crimson stood up, drawing his dagger. "Nord, I kill city guards, I can damn sure kill you!"

Thorgrim laughed a loud, booming laugh. "Bring it on!"

Blades flashed in the firelight. Thorgrim had weight and muscle, but Crimson had speed. He was quickly able to duck and weave, avoiding every swing the Nord made. He pulled an arrow out of the quiver, and he held it up.

Thorgrim laughed again. "That little thing", he said, "that won't even leave a mark. I have chain mail under my shirt!"

Crimson jabbed the arrow into the fire, catching a piece of burning cloth around the head. Jumping back, he drew the bow and readied the arrow. He had a good thirty feet between himself and Thorgrim.

"Nord", he yelled, "Stand down or die!"

"Ha! You can try, lizard!"

The Nord charged him. Without hesitation, Crimson fired. The arrow clipped Thorgrim's shoulder… But only clung loosely to the cloth.

"Is that it?", Thorgrim yelled. "Surely, you can do better than that?" He pulled the arrow from his shirt and dropped it into the fire to burn. He rushed Crimson and before Crimson could ready his dagger to try deflecting it, Thorgrim's iron claymore was run through his shoulder. If Crimson had been any slower to duck, it would have been a heart shot, and he'd be dead.

Crimson, eyes watering, tried to resist the urge to cry in pain or give any indication that he was beat. Thorgrim pulled the blade out, and then lifted it over his head for the kill. Jean-Pierre and the vampire in rags stood quietly to the side, watching intently.

Feigning defeat, Crimson sagged to the ground. Thorgrim swung the blade downwards. Crimson rolled at the last moment towards where his dagger lay, and missed the blow. Before Thorgrim could pull the blade out of the ground, Crimson threw the dagger, hitting him in the base of his neck. He dropped dead instantly. For good measure, Crimson threw the remnants of an old bottle of whiskey on him, and dropped the burning arrow, consuming the body in flames.

Grabbing Thorgrim's blade, he turned to Jean-Pierre.

"Any problems, Breton?", he said.

"No. None at all. I was the one that was being polite, Argonian. Now, can we have a civil talk? Why are you here?"

"I was hiding from the city guard. They are looking for me. I killed a woman, and her baby."

Jean-Pierre sat down in a chair, and stared quietly at Crimson. He could tell that Jean-Pierre had something to say. He would open his mouth a little, then close it again, trying to find the right words. After a long moment of stillness, he finally spoke.

"You… You killed a woman? And a baby? Why a baby? I think you should leave. Get out of here, NOW!" Jean-Pierre stood up, and a fireball lit up in his hand.

Crimson stood up and began slowly backing away. He had some bad experiences with Bretons before. The ones that could summon fire were not ones to be trifled with. In a matter of seconds, Crimson was through the front door, and he could see and feel the fireball go less than a foot over his head.

The cold air made Crimson shiver after being near the fires, but he was free at least. Looking down both directions of the road, he could see Legionnaires and city guard combing the bushes. Seeing an opening in their groups, he ducked, crossed the road into the forests on the other side and set out for the Drunken Dragon and Andreas Draconis


	4. Chapter 4: Oiolatta

**The Vampire's Tale, part 4  
**

**Eric Snowmane**

Gallen stood outside the gate to Cheydinhal admiring the rising sun for a few minutes. He was trying not to break down and cry. He could no longer see his daughter and wife. He could no longer sing to Rosalyn, he could no longer dance under the moonlight with Amelia. He could see it as clearly as if it was yesterday…

Amelia was standing on the docks near Lake Rumare in their youth, humming along to an old song. A tale about a warrior who fell in battle, but was saved by the divines to return to his wife… He could remember her pulling him closer and closer until they started to passionately kiss, and he could remember being pulled into the lake, and later drying off on the beach.

Then, Rosalyn's birth… He almost didn't make it, except for the help of a young mage's teleportation magic. He was in Cloud Ruler Temple when a courier arrived with a message that Amelia was in labor since late afternoon the day before. He managed to convince an Imperial Battlemage visiting the fortress to teleport with him to Cheydinhal. He arrived in time for the final minutes of the birthing, but he made it, none the less.

All these emotions suddenly became too much for Gallen, and he collapsed, crying. He could almost imagine her pain as the vampire attacked her, before leaving her body in the mud. And, his daughter… A bloody mess on the side of the road. He was so busy protecting nobles that he lost the time to take care of what mattered, and he was paying for it.

He stood up after a solid five minutes, and looked around. He had to get his head together, and gather supplies… But what, he didn't know. He was a fierce fighter, but he had never properly fought a vampire before his encounter in the caves. After glancing around, he decided he knew who to speak to...

Jean sat at his desk, reading a book before retiring for the day. He didn't strictly need the rest, but it helped him to pass the time before being able to travel freely again unnoticed. He could travel during the day, but he would be incredibly visible, not to mention weakened by the sun, so he opted to stay indoors during the day.

After a brief moment, he stood up, glanced around, and then sat on his bed. He had a lot on his mind. He never shared his life story with anyone. But, Gallen's was so similar that he felt compelled to do it.

If it weren't for the rising sun, he would have certainly joined him. He pulled back the sheets and looked over his room one last time before trying to sleep. It wasn't incredibly remarkable. It was furnished with the most basic of possessions, and was by no means as grand as he was raised in. Of course, he didn't need the luxuries. He wouldn't even dress extravagantly if he didn't have to.

He rolled over and looked at his sword sitting in the corner. It was a relic from his mortal days, and it was covered in dust. He couldn't use it, because he was what he sought to destroy.

Jean was finally getting ready to fall asleep when he heard the footsteps… Someone entered his home. He jumped up, and silently dashed into the upstairs balcony, where he hopped onto it, and began to precariously balance on it for a better view, although the smell of the man he just spoke to was more than enough. He saw Gallen walk out into the open living room, and dropped down behind him.

"Gallen. What do you need, friend?" he said.

Gallen stood beside him, looking him over, before replying, "I have never properly fought a vampire before, and I return for any advice you may have, and a recommendation of supplies."

"Of course, friend. Come upstairs with me. I actually have just the thing for you, an old weapon from my days hunting vampires. And, I have some supplies as well."

Gallen stepped back a few paces, and began to follow Jean up the stairs, while Jean continued talking.

"It's an old blade of Ayleid origins. Oiolatta. Eternal Light, in the Ayleid tongue. I don't know if the blade has or ever had a true name, but that is what I call her, from the runes engraved on the blade. Here take a look at it."

Jean stopped in his room and lifted the blade's protective case out of the corner, presenting it to Gallen, who took it out and gave it an experimental swing, feeling the weight of it, and he went for another chest.

"As I was saying, the blade is of Ayleid origins. It was presented to me by the Count of Kvatch as a reward for killing off a coven that had taken up residence within the city. Against the average foe, it would appear to be a normal blade, but against the undead… vampires, zombies, and the like, it's a deadly piece of steel. It also has another enchantment on it, one that could have saved me, had I been in the field and armed when I was attacked. The blade will tap into a mysterious power when the wielder is infected by Porphyric Hemophilia, the vampire disease. According to the Count's enchanter, it was a failsafe of sorts, in case the hunter carrying the blade was overwhelmed, he would then have a chance at surviving long enough to find a healer… Ah! Here we go!"

Jean began pulling various bottles and books out of a chest, placing them in front of Gallen.

"I have potions of health and stamina, scrolls of various restoration spells, and I have one Summon Golden Saint scroll from my travels in Vvardenfell a few months ago. These are all for you if you want them. Any questions?"

Gallen placed Oiolatta in its sheath, and fastened it beside his Akaviri blade.

"I do have one question", he said. "Will you travel with me? It's a long travel, and your expertise would most definitely be of use. And, what could I do to repay you for all the services you're providing to me?"

"Gallen. I have nobody left in this world, and I have no need for material possessions. As you can see looking around you, this big, run down manor is quite bare. I am giving you all these for absolutely nothing, because I know you will put them to use in your noble cause. And, I would be honored to join you. I have met Crimson-Tail, the vampire responsible, and he is a truly vile creature. I don't want to travel during the day, as I would quite visibly be a vampire, but we can depart tonight. There is no guarantee that we will find Crimson at his Inn that he frequents if we wait too long. In fact, there is no guarantee he is going that way at all, so this could be a long journey. Allow me the day to rest, and you can go pray, gather additional supplies, rest, or whatever you feel you need to do to prepare for the journey.


	5. Chapter 5: Stories

**The Vampire's Tale: Part 5**

**Eric Snowmane  
**

The sun was finally setting, and day was turning to night. Gallen could feel his heart almost exploding with anxiety from anticipation of what was to come. Jean, on the other hand, had little difficulty maintaining his composure as he buttoned up a rather fine silk shirt and pulled a large traveler's cloak over it. Then again, he wasn't the one who was on the edge of an emotional breakdown, and he wasn't quite so emotionally attached to the mission at hand.

As Gallen gathered up the scrolls and potions given to him earlier in the day, Jean casually walked up to a mirror and played with his hair for a moment before giving up and just pulling it back into a tight pony tail. He couldn't help but notice Gallen's confused look as he glanced up from the knapsack that would carry their gear and provisions. After a moment, Gallen finally had to say something.

"You're dressed rather finely for such a journey, Why, may I ask?"

He replied simply, "Convenience. Who would suspect a nobleman and his armed escort if we were seen on the road? Two men in rags sneaking through the wood would look rather suspicious, wouldn't you think? Three people are dead. Your wife, your daughter, and I read in the Black Horse Courier on my doorstep minutes ago that there is a dead city guard. There will be far less questions asked if a Blade is escorting a nobleman down the road."

Nodding in agreement, Gallen threw the knapsack over his shoulder and donned his helmet before following Jean out into the cool winter air to the stables. As usual, the vampire was right. While Cheydinhal's guard were questioning the other travelers as they walked in and out of various inns and shops, nobody batted an eye at the Breton in silks and a hood and his Imperial escort.

The Black Waterside Stables were closed when Jean and Gallen got there. The gates were locked, the house sat dark. Gallen and Jean walked up to the door, and Gallen tapped his shield on the door frame, making a rather loud bang on the hinges, but nobody answered. Jean walked around to the window to look in, and saw in the dim light that the one room shack was empty.

"Gallen, he's not here. I think he's in town. His smell is all over this place, and it's one that was in town minutes ago."

Gallen rubbed his hands together to warm them up a bit before replying, "What do you suppose we do?"

"How soon do you want to pursue Crimson?"

"Fast as we can."

Nodding, Jean walked up to Gallen who followed him to the stable gate. Looking around to verify that nobody was nearby, Jean suddenly paused to concentrate, and his hands turned a brilliant orange as conjured fire burned the wood around the metal lock, enabling him to kick the gate open and walk in.

The two horses were feisty, the fire startled them and they bolted upright and started to neigh and get rowdy. Closing his eyes and focusing again, Jean began to mumble under his breath and the horses started to calm down, undoubtedly under the influence of some kind of magic. Gallen didn't understand magic. His years of service in the Blades put him around many mages, but he was never able to learn himself or even comprehend the awesome power that a person like Jean could wield.

Now that they were able to get close enough, Jean grabbed from beside the gate while Gallen pulled two saddles from stable. in a matter of minutes, they were on the move.

The horses were fast. Cheydinhal was known for its fast horses, though Gallen had never been able to afford one himself. It only took them a few hours at a fast pace, and they were on the Red Ring Road near the way shrine to Julianos. The horses were tiring, so Jean suggested they take a break, and they dismounted and set up a campfire near the way shrine to warm up.

Jean reached into the bag and passed some wine and bread over to Gallen before sitting down on a downed log and staring off into the distance.

After a few minutes of eating silently, Gallen finally spoke up.

"Jean-Pierre", he said, "tell me about yourself."

Jean stood up and walked to the fire to sit near Gallen, though significantly further away from the flames.

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. What's it like being a vampire?"

"There are days where it's a blessing, and there are days where I feel cursed. I miss the sun, for one, and I can't be out in the sun unless I am heavily robed to shield myself from the burning heat it radiates. I loved the sun. On the brightest, warmest days when I wasn't in the field for County Kvatch, I would be out fishing. Now, I am house bound during the day unless I really have to travel, and when I do travel, it's almost painful even cloaked, to be in the sun. It wasn't always like that. When you're a fledging, your feeding will sustain you in the sun and you can live a fairly normal life provided your feedings are regular. The older you get, the less your feedings will help you against the sun, but at the same time, you're becoming a stronger vampire as your powers expand."

"What do you feel about immortality? The concept of being around until the end of time or your life is taken?"

"It's lonely. There are days where I want to see how civilization advances, and how the Empire will respond to the events thrown at it, but at the same time, I hate it. I have to watch my family and friends die, while I am left here to wander aimlessly."

Jean stood up and doused the fire.

" We can talk about this later. It's time we got moving."

Nodding, Gallen stood up to gather everything up, and they mounted the horses to take off riding again. As they rode, Jean asked to know Gallen better, and Gallen replied slowly, deliberately.

"There's not much to say about me. I was raised in Stros M'Kai, I enlisted in the Imperial Army at 19, and I've been in the military since then. It wasn't until only a few years ago that I found time to start a family. I met Amelia when I was attached to Cheydinhal's garrison shortly before the Oblivion Crisis on a routine mission to secure the Castle for the Royal Family to make a visit.

"We fell in love, and after over three decades of service to the Emperor, I secured my discharge and we were wed. I was happier than I've ever been, and I was overjoyed when our daughter was born. I almost missed it. I was in Bruma at the time, and I got word that she had been in labor for a long time, and I managed to secure a mage attached to Cloud Temple to give me a teleportation. I arrived just in time.

"She was my life. I could not describe how overjoyed my little Rosy made me…"

Gallen trailed off, seeing Jean's discomfort.

"I'm sorry", he quickly said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Jean took a breath and wiped his eye.

"It's fine, it's fine. Continue on."

"Are you sure?"

Gallen nodded slowly, and took a took a sip from the wine bottle attached to his saddle, before clearing his throat and continuing:

"There's not much left to say. We did everything together, and were never apart. The couple of weeks she left to go see her family with the baby was the first time she had been gone for so long. I was sick the day of the trip, and I stayed behind to tend to the house. I was looking forward to it. To by girls returning to me, and then…"

This time it was Gallen's turn to trail off, and Jean leaned over to pat his shoulder before looking ahead at the road.

There was some small talk of strategy, but overall the remainder of the journey was quiet. Too quiet. As minutes turned to hours and the sun slowly rose up over the forests to the east, neither of them said a word. They both knew what was about to happen.

They finally reached it. A sign on the main road pointing off to a fork in the road and the inn a few hundred feet into the trees.

They dismounted their horses and smacked with Gallen's shield to get them moving. The horses weren't going to be needed anymore. Vampires had sensitive hearing, and the last thing the two wanted were horses galloping up to the in.

Jean pulled the cloak tighter around himself and moved into the dense trees motioning for Gallen to follow him. The two moved up beside the inn, and Jean gracefully vaulted the fence to move behind the inn. Seeing what he wanted, a few windows peering into the inn, he glanced around inside before slowly moving around smelling the air carefully.

He nodded to Gallen. Though he couldn't see the vampire, he was definitely in there.

Jean hopped back over the fence took Gallen by the shoulder, leading him away from the building.

"He's definitely here. Wait here. I want to scout it out, and I'll come back out in a few minutes. If anything sounds wrong, come in weapons drawn."

Nodding, Gallen donned his Blades helm and Jean walked up to the door and entered the inn.


	6. Chapter 6: Fire and Steel

**The Vampire's Tale, part 6**

**Eric Snowmane  
**

Andre Draconis sat behind the counter to his bar reading a book he got in Leyawiin when he went for supplies for the store. There was never anyone in the inn, besides Crimson, when he bothered to show up. He hated vampires, they were foul creatures, and he only let the lizard stay because he would always pay a fine sum to use this inn as a hide-out whenever he needed to escape whatever deeds he did.

He sighed. It was his fault that he would let it happen. That he would let the vampire stay here, and not stand up for himself. But, the fear that he and his family would be killed if the vampire wasn't allowed to use the remote location as a safe house was took much to take.

Closing the book, Andre stood up and walked across the room to wipe down the tables. Not that they needed to be wiped down. Save for Crimson, who only used the lodgings but never ate at the inn, there was never anyone here.

Counters wiped down, he turned to walk back to the counter, just as the front door opened, and a gentleman entered wearing rather fine clothes exposed under the thick traveling cloak he wore. There wasn't much more that Andre could make out of him, as he never removed his hood as he walked up to the counter.

Straightening his apron, Andre stood straight behind the counter. "How are you, sire? May I offer you a drink?"

The gentleman shook his head. "No, but I need information on an Argonian."

Andre felt a nervous tug in his chest. "Well, information isn't free. What's in it for me?"

The gentleman stood back up and in a flash had reached across the counter, grabbing Andre by the apron with one hand, while pulling back his hood with the other. It was a another vampire! Andre grabbed his wrist and tried forcing it off, but the vampire's grip wouldn't slacken.

"Where is the lizard?", the gentleman repeated. "And, who else is here?."

The vampire of course knew, but he wanted to make absolutely certain there weren't going to be interruptions or collateral damage.

* * *

Crimson stood at the top of the stairs listening. It was without a doubt the Breton who attacked him in the cave, but he was still too weak to fight, thanks to the hole in his shoulder from the other one's sword. Glancing around, he jumped up and grabbed a rafter with his good hand, and then struggled to pull himself up into the shadows, before jumping into a storage area. It was dark and largely forgotten about, thanks to its inaccessibility, so Crimson kept his stolen gems and weapons here. Grabbing a sword he turned and sprinted towards a window and smashed through it, dropping down in front of the inn.

* * *

Gallen was just as shocked as the vampire was when they discovered each other. Drawing his Akaviri katana, Gallen readied his shield and lunged at Crimson, who ducked and spun around to use his tale to trip Gallen up.

He stumbled back just as Jean rushed through the doorway firing fireballs towards Crimson and lighting a few nearby trees up. Gallen recovered his step, and they began running into the trees after Crimson.

Though he was hurt so badly, the Argonian was still able to jump up and swing one handed into a tree branch, where he began jumping from tree to tree to keep ahead of his pursuers.

Though Gallen could barely keep up with Crimson, Jean had no problem, thanks to his lighter clothing and vampiric agility, and he jumped up into a tree after Crimson, and managed to connect a fireball with the branch Crimson was jumping for. The Argonian landed in fire, and fell down in pain to the ground. The nature of his reptilian skin and the fact that vampires and fire didn't mix left him in agony. Jean- Pierre dropped down, drawing a small Elven short sword he had concealed under his robe. Gallen was one hundred feet behind, but closing in.

Feigning defeat, Crimson knelt down in pain, and Jena-Pierre stepped a few steps closer, point of the sword at Crimson's throat. Gallen finally caught up and raised his weapon to strike.

At the last minute, Crimson rolled to duck the swing and then threw his sword, catching Jean in the arm and making him stumble back. He followed through by using his tail to knock down Gallen before recovering his sword and putting it into Jean's chest, who collapsed immediately. Crimson then bolted to escape the Redguard and his beaten partner.

Gallen dropped the sword and knelt down beside Jean, who had a large pool of blood forming under him.

"Gallen... It's too late for me", he said, coughing up blood. "Keep on his tail or you'll lose him"

"No! Stay with me, Jean!"

Jean smiled, and pulled at his throat revealing a nice golden amulet, which he held up to Gallen.

"This was... My wife's amulet. Take it. You'll need it."

Jean started coughing heavily, more bloody mucus dripping from his mouth, and his hand went limp, the amulet slipping to the ground.

Picking it up and wiping his face, Gallen looked around, remembering the location, and took off further into the trees after Crimson-Tail.

* * *

Crimson jumped up onto a large, decorated stone pillar and using his vampiric sight, could see Gallen moving through the trees in his general direction.

As badly as Crimson was hurt, he felt that if the Redguard's vampiric companion was such an easy kill, then the mortal himself would be equally easy.

When Gallen finally got into a clearing in the trees, Crimson jumped down and rushed him, stabbing forward with his short sword, a move Gallen easily deflected with his shield. Crimson and Gallen began exchanging rapid thrusts and parries, neither able to break the other's defenses.

As much as Crimson would have preferred to not use a weapon against an armed Imperial soldier, he would be no match without a means to block the swings, since his off-hand was in agony from being stabbed, burned, and fallen on in a matter of days.

Using his sword, Crimson took a wide swing at Gallen, which required him to parry in a way that would enable Crimson to knock is sword hand wide, and Crimson slammed his weight into Gallen's shield, knocking him down and sending the katana rolling across the grass.

Using his off-hand, Crimson grabbed the second blade, an ornate one of an origin he didn't recognize, and went to tug it from Gallen's sheath, only to experience a burning sensation on his skin, causing him to drop the blade in pain.

Oiolatta. Eternal Light. Gallen wore the blade, but out of habit and comfort grabbed the katana he spent over a decade using. He reached for the blade, but just as he could get his fingers around it, Crimson slammed his foot down on Gallen's gauntleted hand, and then ripped his helmet off to enjoy the kill.


	7. Chapter 7: Eternal Light

**The Vampire's Tale, part 7**

**Eric Snowmane  
**

Gallen awoke in a mysterious room, feeling weaker than ever. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He wasn't sure where precisely he was, but it was definitely a location of Ayleid origin, from his brief explorations to other locations. He stood up weakly, and stumbled from the stone bed he was on, and had to grab a door way to steady himself. It was made of iron, and glancing around, he could find no lever or button, save for a glowing one just outside the door that he was unable to reach.

Examining his surroundings, he limped back to the bed and sat down, defeated. He failed Rosalyn. He failed Amelia. He failed Jean. He failed himself. Here he sat locked in a room alone. Imprisoned by the vampire he sought to kill.

Suddenly, he had to lean over to puke. He had an agonizing pain in his stomach, and his whole body burned.

He wiped his forehead with his shirt and then curled up on the bed to sleep and mope about his failures.

* * *

Crimson woke up from a restless sleep, and examined his injuries. They were bad, but at least he was alive. Gallen's blood had seen to that. Looking around his chamber in the ruin, he admired Gallen's gear and the decorated blade. One that he quickly realized he was unable to touch with his bare hands.

Taking it up in a rag, he walked down the hallway and pressed the glowing blue button controlling his prisoner's room. Just like he figured, the Redguard was out of it. He barely had enough blood in him to stay alive, and that was just what Crimson wanted. Gallen was going to die in this ruin and be reborn a vampire... The ultimate torture, in Crimson's opinion, and one that he knew the Breton was subjected to, from Gallen's strange mumbling in his sleep.

First, though, Crimson wanted to know about the mysterious blade, and he needed Gallen alive and in his weakened state to be able to control him.

The vampire smacked Gallen, who jumped upright, but suddenly went wobbly and had to grab the bed for support.

"Redguard", Crimson hissed. "I do hope you enjoy your accommodations. I made them just for you."

"You..." That was all Gallen had the effort to say.  
"Me? Was that your wife and child I killed? Yes, I claim responsibility. If it's any

consolation, that was a rather fine woman you had. She tasted so, so wonderful. The child was killed by mistake. The horse did it. Not that it matters who did it, since she'd be dead anyway."

Gallen stood up and tried to lunge for Crimson, but the vampire knocked him over using the wrapped up blade.

"What... Do you want with me?"

Crimson laughed. "I want nothing to do with you. This is where you will stay. You will live in this room, you will finish your transformation, and then you will starve to death here. It must be agony, going so long without feeding, and being able to smell all the filthy rats that run through here."

Gallen finally was able to stand up, and he stared down Crimson.

"Redguard, I have one question, though. Tell me about your interesting sword. It's a beautiful piece, but I am afraid it's enchanted somehow, and it hurts to hold."

"Oiolatta. It's an Ayleid blade. I don't know what enchantments it has, since it's never worked for me like that."

Gallen was lying of course. If the vampire knew what the blade was, he'd be killed before he could get his hands on it.

Crimson laughed again, then sat down on a wooden stool brought into the ruin by one of the many bandit camps that would hide in these ruins. Gallen was in no condition to resist.

"Well, Redguard. Here's your sword. I know that you're lying to me, and I can wait as patiently as I need to in order to get an answer."

Crimson dropped the sword on the ground and then walked towards the door. Gallen leaned forward, and was barely able to touch the tip of his fingers on it. Jean had been right, he felt a new energy flow into him when he touched it. Eternal Light shone from the gems in the blade, lighting up the room, and Crimson turned surprised to Gallen rushing him with the blade. Crimson drew a short sword, caught off guard by Gallen's sudden display of strength. Though he was able to counter the first few attacks, he was in no way prepared for such a raw fury coming from Gallen, and he quickly stumbled and lost hold of his blade, enabling Gallen to impale him.

Gallen kept pushing and pushing with the blade, until Crimson was backed into the door frame and the blade was up to its hilt in his stomach. Crimson fell to the ground, and Gallen pulled the blade from him, and then stabbed him again, and again, and again screaming in an enraged fury he'd never experienced, until the adrenaline rush had subsided, and he fell down again blacking out.

* * *

Gallen awoke feeling strange. All the pain in his body was gone. The dusty room suddenly felt alive with activity. Rats could be heard moving around downstairs, each individual detail in the stone walls suddenly became crystal clear, and all Gallen could do for the next hour was look around in awe.

Finally, he bent down to retrieve his blade, only to be met with an awful burning sensation. He was a vampire. Grabbing the cloth Crimson used to cover it, he wrapped the blade up and started moving room to room, securing the area and looking for some badly desired blood.

He found the room with his gear, and while he could have retrieved it all, he didn't selecting only the amulet given to him by Jean, and a ring that he had been given by Amelia.

Though it was now dark, when Gallen went outside, he could see clear as day, and each smell of the night was suddenly a set of distinct smells, rather than the one smell he always associated with being outside. Turning, he heard movement, and instinct took over. He hunched down and located a hunter, stalking some unknown prey in the night. Gallen rushed him and the man was dead within two minutes.

Feeling sated, Gallen began working his way through the woods, until he located where Jean's body was. Or should have been. In death, the sun burned his body until it was ash. Taking the wrapped up blade, Gallen drove it into the ground, marking Jean's "grave", and then draped the amulet over the hilt.

Saying a few words of prayer to his lost friend and companion, Gallen moved on, his newborn cravings for blood overwhelming him. It was time to feed for the night.


End file.
